


Fine

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Togafuka Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Not everything changes. Not immediately, anyway.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine

A few seconds pass before Byakuya identifies the arm draped over him. That short timeframe should no longer exist yet almost every morning, his mind goes blank and nausea crawls up his throat at the feeling of a heavy, skinned something resting on top of him.

Byakuya has only shared a bed with one person and that person is currently hugging him from behind. With his permission, of course. His body relaxes.

The alarm clock flashes red numerals, set to ring in an hour.

Blinking slowly, he tilts his body forward and seizes the mobile phone on the bedside table.

* * *

“No,” Touko says.

Byakuya looks at his tablet, brow furrowed. For several seconds, he doesn’t understand what she just said. “Excuse me?” The polite phrasing of his query catches on his tongue.

“You only need eight people to activate the Forced Shutdown.” Touko’s fists clench. “S-So...” She fixes her eyes on him. “So let me go instead! Please, Byakuya-sama!”

He studies her, his lips pursed, remembering when she used to obey him without ever vocalising a single complaint. Since then, she developed a backbone.

She changed. Admittedly, so has he.

“I’m going,” he tells her, “so wait there for me.” 

* * *

 

Neither prove to be much good in the kitchen.

Previously, Byakuya never needed to cook as he had servants do so for him. Expert chefs prepared all his meals and he had thought little of it. That was their role while his was to improve himself as he followed in his father’s footsteps.

Touko’s cooking skills also require work, for they’re limited to simple meals after a childhood of improvising with whatever was in the kitchen cabinets whenever her parents forgot to feed her.

They eat out for a few weeks. Then he supervises her as she peruses recipe books.

* * *

Yasuhiro tosses another konpeito into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Do you think the girls talk about us when we’re not there?”

Byakuya turns to the next page of his newspaper.

“They sometimes do,” Makoto says, hunched over and twiddling his thumbs. “Kirigiri-san said but apparently it’s all confidential.”

“Do you think they had to sign a non-disclosure agreement?” Yasuhiro asks, sucking on his sweet. He winces. “Asahina-chi better not tell them about my rash.”

“No one wants to know about that,” Byakuya says.

Yasuhiro laughs loudly.

Byakuya wonders if this is what it’s like to have friends. 

* * *

“Hey...” Aoi bites her lip. “Do you think the guys talk about us when we’re not there?”

Touko looks away from her reflection in the shop’s display window.

“They do,” Kyouko replies, admiring a bottle of blueberry perfume. “However, I believe they’ve taken an oath of confidentiality.”

Komaru puffs out her cheeks. “Hmph... Maybe we should spy on them.” She raises her fists. “Like we’re secret agents... or... or ninjas!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Touko mutters.

“Hey, maybe Togami-san shows off about you to them.”

Touko’s eyes sparkle. “Let’s go! Now!”

Touko wonders if this is what it’s like to have friends. 

* * *

Though people said they were together before, the meaning isn’t quite the same now. ‘Together’ used to refer to Touko trailing along after him which Byakuya found himself getting more and more annoyed at. Finally, he had insisted she henceforth situate herself where he could see her, leading to them slowly becoming a different kind of together.

“Have you... like, you know?” Yasuhiro forms a circle with his thumb and index finger. With his other hand, he pokes a finger through the opening.

Heat rises to Byakuya’s face. “Shut up.”

“Hey, Togami-chi, I’m only teasing, ‘right?”

Byakuya marches off.

“... ‘Right?” 

* * *

Not everything changes. Not immediately, anyway. Bed sharing took a while, and even then he sleeps on the far side of the bed so Touko has to wiggle up to Byakuya’s back if she wants to touch him. Aoi still gets in his face if he uses the wrong tone when speaking to Touko, reprimanding him on tiptoe with her hands on her hips. Apparently he often speaks in the wrong tone. Apparently nearly everything he says and does is wrong.

Yet Touko stays.

One night, in bed, he rolls over. His nose almost touches Touko’s.

Foolish girl.

Foolish him. 

* * *

The teeth of the wide toothed comb crackle in Touko’s knots and she jerks her head at each tug.

“Is your neck made of rubber?” Byakuya asks, lifting the comb to eye level. He squints at the damp, unkempt hair entangled in its teeth.

“I’m trying to stay still but your hands are so strong,” she says, voice dripping like the water leaking from the tap.

Byakuya resumes combing.

She squeaks.

Soon after, the comb plunges into bubbles. He wrenches at a stubborn knot with both hands, pulling hard enough to slam her naked back into him.

His cheeks warm. 

* * *

Byakuya traces his finger around the rim of his glass.

His first time was a chain of events that he carelessly fell prey to, he decides. She came to his room with candy, he allowed her to feed him some while he read and she absent-mindedly kissed him. One of her delusions must have finally blurred the line separating it from reality. Then he kissed her back, his judgement gave way to curiosity or lust or whatever it was and the incident concluded with their clothes scattered across the floor.

He sips his wine.

That doesn’t explain the consequent times. 

* * *

The desk creaks under Touko’s weight.

Byakuya hushes into her ear, his breathing already irregular, and slips a knee between her legs. When she clamps her legs together, squeezing his thigh, he suppresses a shiver. He holds both her arms because she’s wiggling too much and dips his head until their eyes are level. Their lips brush together, testing, and then reunite for longer.

Touko falls backward, pulling him down with her. She presses her body against him, jerking her shoulders until her arms are set free so she can hug his neck.

Then Kyouko knocks on Byakuya’s office door.

* * *

After despair ravaged the world, nobody can afford to be choosy with birthday presents. Touko tears away wrapping paper and picks at sellotape with her fingers.

An expensive pen from Kyouko. A book she already read from Makoto. Candles from Yasuhiro. A garish hair bow from Aoi. They’re all put to one side.

Touko saves Byakuya’s present for last and opens it carefully. She lifts out a porcelain doll with raven black hair and pale grey eyes.

“Acquiring it took some effort.” An understatement. Byakuya murmurs into her ear, “It will suffice until we create a suitable replacement.”

She blushes. 

* * *

The curtains around Touko’s bed have been pulled back. Of the newborn, Makoto glimpses a tuft of purple hair when Byakuya adjusts his hold on the bundle of blankets in his arms.

A midwife instructs Byakuya on how to hold their baby - “Support the head, that’s the most important thing!” - and when she leaves, satisfied, Byakuya peers down. His rigidness cracks briefly in his eyes and threatens to melt the rest of his body.

Makoto inhales.

Byakuya glances up. He stiffens. “Naegi.”

“Naegi,” Touko echoes. “Well? Do you want to see him or not?”

Makoto grins.

They will be fine.


End file.
